


Maybe I'm not as lost as I thought I was

by 14million_constellations



Series: My Aftermath of Avengers: Endgame [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anxiety, Avengers: Endgame, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Big Brother Peter Parker, Crying, Dead Tony Stark, Depression, Flashbacks, Grief, Grief/Mourning, I'm Still Bad At Tagging, Just a filler for what we missed, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is really bad at grieving, Protective Avengers, Protective Happy Hogan, Protective May Parker (Spider-Man), This is going to be sad, but i love it, just warning you, not an Endgame fix it, possible mentions of suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-06 01:42:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18841066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/14million_constellations/pseuds/14million_constellations
Summary: Peter doesn't understand how he's just supposed to... move on.How can everyone be so okay, when he is feeling so broken?What's the point when he's not there in the end. When Peter feels ultimately... alone.....AKA. Peter is having a really hard time grieving over Tony's death, and can't seem to move on. Luckily, he's not the only one going through this, and he has a whole family of superhero's and legends to help him.Warnings: Endgame spoilersThis is an Endgame filler fic for what we missed in the movie.





	Maybe I'm not as lost as I thought I was

Peter didn’t understand how it seemed so easy for people to move on.

He dosn’t understand how people _were expected_ to move on. To just… keep living.

Tony Stark had been gone ten days, eleven hours, and twenty-two minutes and Peter was suddenly just supposed to say goodbye.

That time has felt like nothing. Has flown by as easily as someone closing their eyes, falling asleep, and waking up to a new morning. But, then again, for the past ten days, Peter has been traveling on autopilot.

His vision is laid thick with undertones of static; as if the cable had blown on a television set. The sound of buzzing making every word and noise blurry and foreign.

Sometimes, Peter has to convince himself that he hasn’t gone deaf. That he’s still himself. He’s _still_ Peter Parker.

_But is he?_

How much of Peter could Peter be without Tony Stark?  

On the morning of Tony’s funeral, Peter isn’t sleeping. He never does these days. Instead, he’s already sitting up in bed; his legs draped over the side of the mattress, and bare feet planted on the cold floor.

He stares off into nothing as the second's tick past. Time means nothing to him anymore; and yet, it means everything. His eyes burn as his blinks are too spread apart, but he can't care. His eyes have been burning for hours now.  

_Ten days, eleven hours, and twenty-two minutes._

_Ten days, eleven hours, and twenty-two minutes._

_Ten days, eleven hou--_

A knock on his door has him breaking his train of thought, and he hardly looks up when his door opens with a _creak._

“Baby?” May asks, standing in the boy’s doorway. “Oh, hi, I didn’t know if you were awake or not.”

Peter blinks. He can see her hand raise to her chest, and place itself over her heart.

She bites her bottom lip for a second, almost as if she might start crying. But she doesn't. “Well, we gotta get moving. It’s already eleven. You know how long the drive is.”

Peter doesn't respond, but she leaves anyway.

Doesn't matter, he heard her.

It takes him too long to pull himself off the bed, and every movement feels lethargic and stiff. He doesn't shower; he did that a few days ago.

As he’s putting on his suit, his fingers are sore, and he can’t help but imagine his bones being brittle. If he listens hard enough, his enhanced hearing can even pick up the sound of his body creaking. But maybe that’s just his imagination.

He gives up on tying his tie after three tries and just leaves it hanging around his neck.

He can’t even bring himself to look in the mirror. He already knows how sickly he must look, and staring at his own reflection would only bring on a wave of tears.

He needed to save his emotions. He didn’t know how much he had left.

When he wanders into the living room, May is already standing there, dressed.

She looks nice.

But she takes one look at Peter, and he can almost see her brain switch in mom-mode.

“Pete, sit down,” she orders softly.

He obliged with no hesitation.   

He can feel as she pulls a comb through his soft curls. The curls he knew Tony loved so much.

_So much… Tony._

“Done,” May says, and Peter snaps to attention.

There are tears in his eyes, but he doesn't bother to wipe them; even though the action feels like second nature by now.

May had also tied his tie for him, and he didn’t even notice. She is kneeling in front of her nephew; his gaze cast down at her short dress heels.

She saw the tears.

He could tell because her face fell, and mom-mode shut off. Now, she was just back to being Aunt May.

“Baby,” she coos, reaching up to cup the sixteen-year old’s cheek in her soft hand.

He leans into the touch with a whimper. He’s never felt so deprived of touch in his entire life, and this is exactly the way that Tony would hold his face.

Peter can’t help the fresh tears that bloom in his bloodshot eyes, and May wipes them away with a slightly calloused thumb.

“I wish there was more I could do,” she says gently.

 _You’re doing enough,_ Peter thinks. His chest is too full of sobs for him to speak. _More than enough._

“No one deserves to go through what you do,” she says, both of her hands now holding his face. “Life hasn’t exactly been easy on you, sweetheart.”

Peter can’t say anything.

Instead, he falls into her waiting arms with a trembling nod. His jaw quivers, and he has to clench it to stop his teeth from clacking together.

May wraps her arms around her nephew. The one person she loved more than life itself. The only living family she had left.

Peter buries his face in her neck, inhaling the smell of her conditioner. Vanilla and something flowery. Also, the slight hint of the coffee she must have had earlier. It’s not bold; unlike Tony, May does not like her coffee strong.

Peter always found that so uncharacteristic of her.

But now, the boy couldn’t care less. He couldn’t care that he was weeping into his aunt’s nice dress, or that strands of her own hair were sticking to his face due to the tears streaming from his eyes.

He just focused on what was to come.

The horrible, inevitable, thing he was going to have to do. Have to say.

_Ten days, eleven hours, and fifty-seven minutes..._

_Ten days, eleven hours, and fifty-seven minutes._

_Ten days, eleven hours, and fifty-seven minutes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos make my day, while bookmarks and comments make my week.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this isn't a fix-it fic... more of a filler since we never got to see much of Peter after Tony's death in Endgame.  
> I'm still crying over that movie, by the way. 
> 
> ....
> 
> This has nothing to do with the other fic that I am currently working on. Everything in this is canon to the Marvel Universe.


End file.
